Among the Wheat
by Besieged Infection
Summary: There's a barrier between them, but it certainly isn't a fence. But when has language stopped anyone truly determined? (One-shot for Kailiff.)


**Among the Wheat**

**Disclaimer: Besieged Infection does not own the rights to Kingdom Hearts. No money is being made off of the production or distribution of this fanfiction.**

**-AtW-**

The boy in the wheat field was milking a cow.

Demyx didn't know why he found this so fascinating. They were in _Texas_. There were cows _everywhere_.

It had all started when the musician was in his mid-teens. Just after being admitted into high school, he was introduced to a new way of getting to the institution; walking. And every day, without fail, as he drew around a wheat field that sat smack dab in the way of three streets – and thus required him to walk along the edge – he saw the boy and his cow.

"Hey!" he called at first, adjusting the strap of his guitar over his shoulder.

The boy in the field didn't so much as flinch.

Undeterred, he shouted, "Good afternoon!"

No response.

_Is he deaf?_ Demyx wondered.

He was not, in fact, deaf. The musician learned this the next time he passed by and shouted that the weather was amazing. That was when the boy looked up, and Demyx was lost.

The boy was of mixed decent, if his jaw and build was anything to go by. Something Asian. But his eyes were a bright, terrible blue that seemed to wrest the oxygen from the musician's lungs. He choked, biting his lip and suddenly very nervous. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath and called again, "Hello there!"

No response.

_Does he only speak Chinese or something?_

The next day was much the same, as was the next. In fact, two weeks passed like this, with the exception of weekends, until it rained. Then the boy wasn't there. Demyx had peered out from under his umbrella, not entirely surprised but still disappointed. That's when he got his idea. Racing home, taking special care to splash in the larger puddles – and immediately regret it the moment his guitar got wet, only to repeat it again when he came across the next miniature lake – he greeted his parents, dropped his guitar in his room before hopping on the computer.

Walking home from school the following day, the sun beating down on his face, Demyx grinned big and waved at the boy in the field. "Nihao!"

Much to his surprise, the boy sighed.

_Not Chinese, then_, Demyx mused.

Over the following days he tried Korean, Tai, and even Indian. Then, surprising himself, he delivered an incredibly mangled greeting in Gaelic. This, of course, did not pay off. No; he didn't receive anything resembling a reward any time soon.

Then, on the day he had decided he was going to try for Vietnamese, he paused mid-wave and looked – really looked – at the boy. And, surprising himself, he imitated one of his sister's cartoons. Bending nearly in half, he shouted, "Konnichiwa!" His Japanese accent was admittedly horrible. He remained folded over for a while, but eventually he had the courage to edge his head up and peek at the boy.

Shocking, terrifying blue eyes were turned on him in what could only be surprise.

Demyx grinned shakily. _Success!_

**-AtW-**

_Is it just me or is he a bit closer?_

Demyx couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn the boy in the wheat field had moved since the day before. It wasn't much – maybe ten feet; maybe five feet – but the musician noticed none-the-less. He adjusted his guitar. Approaching the fence, Demyx grinned and bowed. "Konnichiwa!" he shouted, much like the day before. This time he looked up in time to catch the boy nodding.

The next year passed like this, with the appropriate breaks for rain, holidays, and weekends.

**-AtW-**

"You dyed your hair!" the musician exploded one day, jumping up on the post and rail fence, pulling himself up and leaning forward just a bit.

The boy looked up, obviously confused.

Demyx flailed one arm wildly and clarified, "Aoi no kami! Kakkōī!"

Much to the musician's amusement, the boy blinked and reached a hand up to touch his hair. Grabbing a bright blue strand, he held it up.

The musician nodded vigorously. "Hai!"

The boy flushed and nodded, silent as ever.

After that he was ten feet closer to the fence. Demyx had smiled at this, said he greeting, and left. _Fifteen down_, he thought to himself. _Thirty to go_.

**-AtW-**

Another year passed, and in all that time the musician couldn't get the Japanese boy any closer. He'd tried asking him questions in his native language; no go. He tried compliments. Teasing. Jokes. No go.

Then, one day, he sighed and asked, "Hey, don't you ever do anything else?"

The boy shrugged.

Demyx jumped, eyes wide and hands clutching at the strap of his guitar. "Can you understand me?"

No reply.

Despite this, the musician grinned. He had a feeling about this.

The next day the boy was right next to the fence, and when Demyx walked up he could feel his heart thudding loud in his chest.

"Hi," he managed, sticking with English. He stepped up on the post and rail fence and took a seat in one of the gaps. Throwing his arms over the top, he sighed happily. "I had a bad day. How was yours?"

No reply.

Undeterred, he continued. "There's this label that wants to pick up my band, but everyone's all torn up about it. No one wants to sell out, but... This is my first chance to really get heard, you know?"

The foreign boy paused in his milking to pat the side of the cow, but gave no reply.

Demyx smiled. "What's worse is they're offering me a solo contract. Do you know what that means?" He sighed, but didn't wait for the boy to reply before continuing. "They want to take me, but not anyone else. The contract for the band is just secondary, in case I don't want to leave them. And I don't, but no one else is going with it."

No reply.

The musician jumped down from the fence, careful not to bump his guitar. "Hey, thanks for listening," he murmured. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Abayo," and walked away.

He didn't see the way the boy shot up from his stool at the word, how he spun to watch the musician walk away, or the shocked expression on his face. How the boy in the wheat field, for a short instance, was about to shout out. But instead he bit his lip and sat back down, eyes on the ground.

**-AtW-**

For three years the boy in the field sat by the post and rail fence at the same time every day, milking a cow and glancing up the road where the boy with blond hair used to come from.

Until one day a man came from the other direction.

"Sashiburi."

The man in the field didn't react at first. He simply continued the chore, hands moving along the udder with the efficiency of practice.

Demyx laughed, glancing around suspiciously before – finding himself alone with the boy and his cow – tugging his ball cap off. "Come on, I grew a foot, not another head." He laughed again before his expression turned a bit sober. "How have you been?" he asked, lifting himself up on the fence and boldly throwing his legs over to dangle over the inside.

No response.

The musician tugged his guitar strap until it lay straight, then rest his hands on either side of himself. "Hey, I meant to ask, do you even like cows?"

Suddenly all movement stopped. Taking hold of the now full bucket of milk, the boy – now man – among the stalks of wheat shrugged and mumbled in heavily accented English, "I'm lactose intolerant."

Demyx blinked, taking in the moment. Raising a hand hesitantly, he unconsciously pointed at the blue-haired foreigner before stuttering out, "D- did you just _talk_?"

Bright blue, terrifying eyes turned on him, and suddenly the blond couldn't speak. The foreigner set the pail of milk on the ground and approached him with what seemed to be grim determination. And in a move that shocked the Texan, he took hold of Demyx's shirt, tugged him down until he was at eye-level, and pressed their lips firmly together.

The musician inhaled sharply, his hands gravitating naturally toward the smaller man's shoulders. And this, he realized, was the first time they'd ever touched. It had taken five years, and he couldn't even breathe.

Then the foreigner pulled away and trained those bright, terrifying blue eyes on Demyx and informed him, "My name is Zexion."

Demyx mumbled out his own name, but didn't get much out beyond that before lips were on his again and his heart was pounding so fast he couldn't tell up from down.

Zexion.

His name was Zexion.

**-AtW-**

**End Notes: Written for my friend Kailiff on Tumblr. Happy birthday!**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


End file.
